The world wavered, wobbled. Shapes drifted past me, sounds echoing in and out. I struggled to rise, caught a distorted image of Sassafras, his mouth gaping open, magic flashing, people being thrown about. He staggered as I had, a cloth shoved over his face as he collapsed backward into the arms of someone dressed in white.

A familiar face drifted into view, her petite features twisted into a snarl of hate. I recognized Rosetta, the white Chosen robe she wore, but was unable to ...